Guardian Angels
by Pocru
Summary: Some protectors are more dependable than others.


Authors notes: This has probably been done already, so if I've inadvertently stolen anyone's ideas, please forgive me. I just recently got into Adventure Time and, having watched I Remember You, I started having all of the feels, so... I was inspired to write this.

thanks all, hope you enjoy

* * *

"I can hear them! They're right above us!" Marceline whimpered, burying her face into the arch of his neck. He could feel the tip of her trembling nose working together with her tingling breath to tickle his skin, but no smile could reward her for her inadvertent efforts.

"Shhhh… it's okay, sweetie, I won't let them get you." He hummed musically, crouching under an overarching slab of highway, ruptured by the cataclysm this crippled world had endured. She could only sniffle a response, and in their mutual terrified silence he could hear the rush of the winds above them, churning and twirling at the whims of their hunters. They were out there. And they'd find the terrified little girl and her ice-blessed protector unless he found them somewhere safe to hide.

He needed to find a building. A structure that had managed to remain upright even as the rest of the earth had fallen to its knees, something that was safe and under no risk of collapse… and yet, such a simple requests seemed impossible to satisfy to these dark days. It was even too much to ask to see the sun peak through the oppressive blanket of clouds that had wrapped itself around the once blue sky.

"God, I promise to stop asking for Betty if you just give me THIS…" He muttered under his breath, taking what few glances the patrols would allow to scan the nearby landscape, looking desperately for any kind of shelter. There were buildings with their faces destroyed, there were buildings toppled over with their intestines wound about their disfigured skeletons, there were piles of chipped boulders that once had the cohesive SHAPE of a building… he just needed to see one, just ONE…

"Mr. Simon…"

"We'll be alright, I promise." He begged, struggling to find any remaining bravery in his soup of a brain. "I just... need…"

One hand was holding Marceline to his back—the other, unburdened, reached to the crown at his hip, hovering tantalizingly over the addictive golden tips that graced the peak…

"No, don't…" She whispered, pulling herself up just enough so her plea could touch the lobe of his ear. "Please, Mr. Simon…"

"…gah." He quickly took his hand away, using it to instead cover his mouth as he realized his heavy, desperate breathing was making too much noise. "You're right, it's just… we're going to have to make a run for it, okay sweetie?"

"Where will we go?!"

"I'll find something. Don't worry. But if something happens—"

"—don't you even dare talk like that!" She hissed, her arms tightening around his neck like an over-affectionate noose. "I know you can do it, Mr. Simon! Without the crown!"

The once aimless whooshes above them, the footsteps of those flying beasts, started gaining intention—they were suspicious. They'd made too much noise, despite their muted, weightless voices. He took a deep breath, doing his best to fill his old lungs with as much calm air as he could grab before his sprint tainted each breath with a hot, stinging fever. Then, with one last distraught look at their abandoned packs and the disheveled stuffed bear which had been enlisted to protect them, he ran.

The city was a magnificent portrait of destruction. Color was gone, buildings and monuments alike were now nothing more than uniform slabs of rock, identical puzzle pieces that could be re-arranged into whatever shape one could imagine. The roads were twisted and curling, flaking off itself, and the sky was stuck in an endless twilight that knew neither the majesty of the sun nor the serenity of the moon. Fog, formed from crushed particles and dust and the lifeless wind that shuffled across the barren lands, always cloaked the distance, using silhouettes to taunt the travelers with promises of a world just outside their own that wasn't destroyed beyond repair or recognition.

He ran. Above them, their hunter's voices squealed with delight as their pray reappeared. The sounds of their slithering through the sky was just barely loud enough to hear over Marceline's terrified scream.

"Simon! They're right behind us!"

His legs, skinny and malnourished, burned in rebellion as his milky white eyes shot across the streets—looking for that one building that could protect them. More ruins, more destruction, more hopeless rubble, more desolation and fear and pain but he couldn't find that one goddamn shelter!?

He could hear the hunter's voices now, faintly painting the backdrop to his hollowing breath.

_"__그들이 그렇게 맛이 좋겠습니다__!"_

_"나는 우리 인간의 맛을 다시 한번 생각 하세요__!"_

He turned a corner, almost falling over his own legs. The crown bounced on his hips, every step reminding him that they always had one last option—one last chance at saving her life.

"Marcaline… sweetie… I think… I have…" he bit each word between breaths, loosening one hand from under her to reach for the crown.

"No! Wait! Over there!" She yelped, pointing at a building resting in the corner of his eyes—it was in-tact! It had a door and everything! He smiled, putting his hand back under Marceline and leaning forward, moving faster than he'd ever dared before.

The shadows of the hunters crossed over his own, consuming it. He swallowed the fire in his throat, narrowed his eyes, and continued on, using every inch of strength his body had to offer, and borrowing the remainder of what he needed from Marceline. With one final leap, he threw himself into the door, body smashing into it and knocking it open—he fell to the ground, tumbling across the broken glass and fallen plaster that littered the ground, until his body finally stopped.

"M-marcaline… are you-"

"-They're gone! They didn't follow us in!" She squealed with delight, pushing herself up despite the assorted cuts and bruises she had received from their fall. His recovery didn't have quite as much spring in it, however, and he struggled to even get seated properly—there wasn't an inch of his body that didn't suffer some form of ache. Aches that were only exaggerated when Marceline threw herself into a hug the moment he was upright.

"Oooooh… Sweetie… ow, I'm… could you please…"

"O-oh, right, sorry." She blushed, stepping back and giving him some air, although her eyes (overgrown from admiration) continued to push into him. "Where are we, anyway? What was this building used for?"

He took a few more much needed breaths before turning his eyes about to answer her question: the floor was tiled, ceiling high, the walls that still had paint displayed a sterile white, and there were many, many empty door frames lining both faces of the hall—housing destroyed beds and ravaged medical equipment.

…of course. This had to be it, huh?

"…this is a hospital." He coughed out, lungs still struggling to catch up, "People who were sick or hurt were taken here to get better."

"Oh. So doctors lived here?"

"…yeah, more or less."

She looked about, examining the remains of the building—then, she closed her eyes, and did her best to imagine how it would have looked in its prime. The dozens of feet stampeding left and right, everybody going somewhere… all the blood, all the death, all the disease and medicine, and all the stories that decorated each and every patient's room, like wallpaper… the voices, calling for one another, the worry and regret and guilt and longing…

"…must have been a scary place." She quietly observed from her own imagination, seating herself against the wall opposite of his.

"It could be, I guess. But there was a lot of life here, too. People getting better, diseases being cured… people gave birth here, too."

He looked at his blue hands, shriveled and frozen as they rested against his knees. To think these spoiled, rotten hands once held…

"Was I born in a hospital?"

…what a funny sort of pain this was.

"…I don't think so, sweetie."

Their conversation ended there—an abrupt crashing sound carried them both to their feet, their faces desperately turning about, looking for the disturbance.

"It's the monsters!" Marceline cried, running to his legs and holding tightly, the only anchor she was sure would keep her safe from those floating demons.

"It's okay!" His voice cracked, "We just need to get deeper into the building! Come on, follow me!"

He briskly walked down the hall, just slow enough for her to keep up on her stubby little legs, looking for any room or stairwell or anything that was too small for the creatures to fit through. They were nimble and flexible as snakes, however, and every time his hopes rose, his memories of their abilities kept his thoughts grounded.

They passed countless holes in the wall, losing track of the dozens of rooms they passed that offered them nothing in the way of protection. They finally pushed through two large double doors into a waiting area—filthy desks, destroyed chairs, a TV with its wired guts hanging out… it was the half-burnt children's books and plastic toys that caught the little half-demon's eyes, however.

"I hope Hambo is okay…" she sniffed, grabbing hold of Simon's limp hanging hand and wringing it between her own.

"He'll be all right. Come on, now…"

They continued, stepping over a fallen sign and navigating a complicated series of tight, winding hallways until they found themselves in the main lobby—and circling overhead, next to a recently broken skylight, were their two rainbow-bodied, horned hunters. Marceline released a panicked hiccup of fear when she saw them, causing both to turn their heads and stare down at their prospective meal.

_"__수없지__!"_

_"__이곳은저녁식사의시간__!"_

"RUN!" Simon turned, pushing Marceline back into the hallway as the two flying monsters adjusted their flight path , dive-bombing the two and swooping into the hallway right after them. They raced through the halls, Simon pushing a terrified little girl ahead of him as they tried desperately to put distance between them and the peach-haired Rainicorn's that were literally snapping at his heels—while those two had to navigate around ceiling tiles and fallen signs and bones and the clustering debris that covered the ground, the Rainicorn's were completely uninhibited in the air.

A sharp, sudden turn. One Rainicorn follows, thrusting forward and pushing into Simon's back with their dull, rounded horn. He turned, kicked the beast in the nose, then continued to chase after the gray-skinned child through the halls, the monster quickly catching up.

They burst through a pair of double doors—a ruined cafeteria. Split and shattered tables, fractured florescent lights, mushy, crusty and unidentifiable food festering on the counters, their pungent odor making the stagnant air writhe. They ran through, the Rainicorn nearly caught up; when the door on the other end swung open before they could reach it—the second Rainicorn. They stopped in their tracks, panic-stricken and throats dry as the Rainicorn's laughed, having finally cornered their slippery prey.

"Simon!" She sobbed, clinging to his leg once again. He put a hand atop her head, allowing the warmth of her scalp to soak into the forsaken tips of his sinful fingers… desperately, he turned about the room, looking for any form of salvation… but knowing there was only one way out.

"…sweetie… whatever I do next… I'm sorry…"

"Simon…?" She looked up, the tears swelling in her eyes not enough to protect her from the sight of her guardian and champion unhooking the dreadful crown from his belt and lowering it atop his head. "Simon… n-no!"

It fit perfectly. Molded onto his scalp. The little warmth, those shreds of comfort she found in his body, instantly vanished as the tender white of his eyes dissolved into a blistering, wrathful blue. His hands glowed, ice crystals forming on his clenched, white knuckles. His face contorted into a vicious scowl, his sharpened teeth born with a fury that should have looked entirely alien on his features.

"…don't… you… DARE… touch her!" He seethed, glaring with an icy-cold venom at the two circling Rainicorns. He raised his hands, a circle of sharp-tipped ice forming around him and his charge, spiraling as it expanded towards the two astonished monsters—but emboldened by their hunger, they both advanced, rushing for the Ice wizard and his companion from both sides.

His eye twitched.

"YOU CAN'T HAVE HER!" He howled, thrusting his arms out, causing waves of dagger-like ice to shoot out at the two Rainicorns—their mobility did little to protect them, however: one, two, three, four daggers of ice, five, six, seven more cuts, eight, nine, puncture wounds as the ice impaled them in a torrent. "YOU WON'T EVER GET HER!"

They tried to disengage—he clenched his fist, and a pillar of Ice formed under both—wrapping around their bodies, trapping them in place. Desperately, one turned and shot a ray of pure light at his face, but a prism of ice appeared before him, reflecting the beam directly into the eyes of its companion. It cried pathetically as its partners own light blinded it, searing the soft of its eyes shut.

"YOU CAN NEVER HAVE HER! I WILL PROTECT HER! YOU WORTHLESS INSECTS MEAN NOTHING TO ME!"

The ice tightened around their bodies, squeezing them. They writhed, howling in agony. He laughed.

"SUFFER! SUFFER FOR YOUR ARROGENCE!"

They started coughing blood. Marceline backed away from the blue skinned monster, eyes growing wide as his laughter grew wider. He shot another bolt of ice at the one of the Rainicorns, encasing its entire head in a block of ice—it struggled, throwing its head back and forth in a desperate attempt to break free. But before long, its thrashing grew weaker as it began to suffocate within the ice.

"WATCH! WATCH WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU THREATEN US!" He commanded the remaining Rainicorn, who was in tears as the pain intensified and the final twitches of life in their partner faded from the corpse. He strode up to the one that remained, still immobilized from the ice encasing its body, and grabbed it by the horn, forcing it to look him in the eye.

"SAY YOU'RE SORRY."

"나는...죄송합니다..."

He grinned. Grinned widely. Grinned wildly. Then leaned into its ears, brushing his beard against the creature's paling face.

And then, he whispered… "…I don't care."

He snapped the horn down, twisting its neck with a sudden, horrible CRACK—its writhing stopped. The two hunters were stilled. Unmoving. Dead. As the body fell pathetically to the ground, he started to kick it, slamming his foot over and over into the limp creature's forehead.

"SEE?! SEE?! SHE'S SAFE, SHE'S SAFE, AND I SAVED HER! YOU CAN NEVER HAVE HER, NEVER TOUCH HER, NEVER TOUCH HER!"

Marceline, crying and terrified, found what courage remained in the pit of her stomach and dared an approach, quietly tip-toing behind him as he continued to smash his foot into the dead monster's face.

"M…. Mr. Simon…" She stuttered, whole body shaking… "I'm… okay… y-you saved… me…"

He stopped. He turned suddenly, and glared down at her with such contempt he looked like an entirely different man.

"YOU?! I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE CROWN!"

Ice formed in his hand, sliding down his wrists into his palm, where it shaped itself into a blade, long and cruel. The girl backed away, her heart stopped in her throat, her breath completely frozen inside her own cheeks, eyes so clogged with tears she was afraid they'd freeze in his presence.

"Mr. Simon! Please, remember! it's me! Marceline! You know me!"

She fell to her bottom. She scotched backwards as the fully realized sword was raised above his head, glistening in an invisible light, his eyes mad with powerlust. "You want my crown… I'll protect her… I'll ALWAYS PROTECT HER-"

His eyes shuttered. His breath jumped. The blade in his hand turned to water. His limbs turned limp. His mouth tipped open, dry and horrified. His stomach was a knot. His body trembled.

"…I…"

His hands, unsteady, uneven, quivering, reached to his head and quickly removed the crown, throwing it to the side. He looked to Marceline.

"…I just… I wanted…"

"…M-Mr. Simon…?"

"Oh my god…"

He fell to his knees, holding his face in his hands. A dry sob fell from his open mouth.

"I'm so sorry…" He whispered into his palms…

* * *

"Is everything there?" He asked weakly, the bags under his eyes wearing down each word before it could reach her ears as she crawled back out from under the concrete slab, dragging their backpacks behind her.

"Yeah. Hambo protected it. He did a good job." She nodded, quietly holding the stuffed bear in her arms.

"I'm glad he can be counted on." Simon smiled briefly, looking upon the doll as it snuggled into her chest. "I'm glad he can be there for you… a little guardian angel…"

"…yeah…"

He sighed, picking up his backpack and throwing it over his shoulder—causing his crown to jump on his belt, patting his hip with its golden base.

"…I think… I like your guardian angel… better than mine."


End file.
